SPCFC Origins: Lucrezia Noin
by AVAAntares
Summary: Noin's world is falling apart. A foiled assassination attempt lands Zechs in a broom closet, a black hole devours the convention center, and a man in a bowler hat drops in for an unexpected kidnapping. And now, the scenery's out of focus!


AN: Please note that this story is not strictly a Gundam W fanfic. It belongs to the chronicles of the SPCFC, but as it's backstory and doesn't fit into the numerical order, it has been listed separately. You can find more SPCFC stories by visiting my profile.  
  
If you came here hoping for Zechs x Noin fluff, you might enjoy the first half of this story, but you'd probably prefer "Pillow Talk" (also in my profile). Otanoshimi ni!  
  
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SPCFC: ORIGINS  
The Second Director

The mob outside the convention center lurched and heaved against the barricade of security personnel. Shouts from the protesters echoed off the walls and the sparkling water of Lake Victoria. The sun was dazzling, and a gentle breeze whispered unnoticed over the heads of the writhing crowd. Nature seemed determined to ignore the unrest, and went about her business of putting on a beautiful day.  
  
Lucrezia Noin squinted up at the clear sky and wished she had time to appreciate the lovely weather. She choked down her second – third? – analgesic of the morning, grimacing at the sour taste. Being chief of security for the newly-promoted Minister of Foreign Affairs was more than her years of regimented military training had prepared her for. OZ had had no qualms about using gas or stun weapons on unruly crowds like this, but the peace-oriented Minister Darlian had forbidden her guards to use or even carry anything of a violent nature. Even though most of the staff had been recruited from Preventers' reserve forces, Relena had insisted on eliminating all visual ties to the pseudo-military organization. It was bad for the government's image, she'd contended. It wasn't helping the government's image, either, that the conference was being held in the refitted Lake Victoria Academy; the opposition press had had a field day photographing the world's pacifist leaders in the former OZ facility.

Noin shifted uncomfortably, readjusting her jacket over her hips. The nondescript suits they wore weren't nearly as efficient or as comfortable as their Preventers uniforms, and she doubted that she'd ever get used to the feel of a radio on her belt in place of a holster. She was beginning to feel wilted in the dark blue fabric.

The crowd surged again, and an unseen hand hurled a large rock toward the entrance. The guards near the door ducked aside, and the stone clattered harmlessly down the steps. They were under strict orders not to retaliate, no matter what provocation the crowd gave. Noin didn't like a situation that left her men so vulnerable, but Relena had been very clear on that point. She didn't want the potential for any of her staff to be accused of violent or oppressive behavior.

"Miss Noin!" Another Preventer-turned-security guard climbed the steps to stand beside her. "The boats are ready, ma'am," the young man reported. "Minister Darlian will be coming out in a few minutes."

Noin nodded. "Thank, you, Mr. Catorce," she replied, grateful for a change of pace. "We should be going, then." The two peacekeepers turned toward the lake, keeping a wary eye on the nearest group of demonstrators.

The officially stated aim of the Victoria conference was to reach an agreement on trade matters between the fledgling colonial states and the United Earth Nation, but the press – and, it would appear, the protesters outside – believed that more than commerce lines were at stake. Somehow, a rumor had spread that certain delegates advocated "peace at any price," and now much of the public feared that their personal freedoms might be at risk. The controversy had led the previous Minister of Foreign Affairs to resign (ostensibly due to his failing health, but more likely because he feared public opinion), and Relena Darlian, then Vice Foreign Minister, had been asked to take his place. Over the past few weeks Relena had attempted to soothe the public fears, but when she'd spoken out against violent demonstrations the opposition had labeled her as the extremists' ringleader. She had received numerous threats, and although her personal security had been quadrupled, she was still considered at high risk for an assassination attempt.

Which, in Noin's professional opinion, made it even more foolish for the representatives to be lunching on a platform floating two hundred yards out on the lake. It was intended to be viewed as some sort of ecological awareness demonstration, but to Noin it was a gift-wrapped opportunity for a sniper to take out his or her least favorite delegate.

Perhaps she only thought that way because she'd been on the other end of the gun. She'd once been a sniper for OZ, eliminating their Romafeller opposition with her near-perfect marksmanship. That was part of what made her such an effective security guard; she knew how to find openings in any security setup. The idea of rowing out to an unprotected platform and remaining stationary for an hour made her cringe; it didn't even require the skills of a sniper to kill with that kind of setup. Even an inexperienced gunman could do unthinkable damage simply by spraying the floating dock with bullets. She voiced as much to the fellow Preventer at her side.

Catorce blinked, surprised at her doubts. "But the world's at peace now," he answered confidently. "We don't have to worry about things like that anymore."

Noin swept a glance around at the surging crowd of dissenters and wondered exactly how much of the "world at peace" the boy had seen before being assigned this position, and if he understood why the word "Preventers" was printed at the top of his pay stub.

She didn't have a chance to correct his flawed logic, for just as they reached the dock, the doors of the Academy-turned-convention center opened and a line of delegates began to meander down the steps. They waved and flashed frozen, nervous smiles at the shouting mob. The security personnel forced a path through the riotous crowd and linked arms to keep it open.

Noin stood rigid at her post, straining to see over the milling heads without looking like she was trying. Catorce, not inhibited by the same sense of military etiquette, unabashedly hopped up on the dock railing and watched for Relena to emerge from the building.

"Here she comes," he called down after a moment. "She's with Senator Peacecraft."

That wasn't surprising; he would be spending every available moment at Relena's side, doing his part to protect her. Zechs had personally asked Noin to head up his sister's security team. Noin knew that he would have preferred to do it himself, but Milliard Peacecraft was needed to negotiate at the conference, and he couldn't run a security detail from the inside. Zechs had entrusted Noin with Relena's life once before, and he knew that Noin, like himself, would sooner die than let harm come to her.

Recently, Zechs had been obsessive, nearly frantic, over Relena's safety, in a way that mere fraternal concern couldn't explain. It was as if he'd had a glimpse of some impending danger, and was doing everything he could to counteract it – though if Noin had to be honest, this sudden shift in demeanor wasn't all that surprising. His behavior had been erratic, if not downright eccentric, ever since he'd returned from space. This hyper-protectiveness was simply the latest in a series of odd quirks he'd developed over the past year.

The guards formed a double line, pushing the crowd back to make way for the line of politicians, and Noin finally caught sight of them at the top of the stairs. Relena was facing the mob's crude epithets proudly, almost defiantly. She had grown taller and more mature in the past year, and she looked lovely in the beam of sunlight that spotlighted her.

The same beam of sunlight was also doing notable service to Senator Milliard Peacecraft, who stood close by Relena's elbow. Noin allowed herself a few seconds of selfish admiration as she memorized the sun's gleam on his streaming platinum hair, the contrast of the white suit against his evenly tanned skin—

__

_Tan? When did he get a tan? _she wondered._ He's been indoors all week. I don't even have a tan, just a sunburned scalp, and I've been standing out here for three days…_

Noin consciously halted the errant train of thought, and nodded minutely when Zechs caught her eye. He acknowledged her with his own nod, and returned to skimming the crowd for signs of danger as he guided his sister toward the dock.

A cold quiver of dread suddenly touched Noin's spine, chilling her despite the sun on her shoulders, and her head snapped from side to side searching for the cause. She couldn't find anything immediately threatening; just the same unruly crowd, the tense guards, the sweating Senators and Ministers who were now beginning to climb into the boats. Her eyes swiveled back to the steps, and her gaze locked with her partner's. He had felt it, too.

For the first time since the end of the war, Noin's fingers burned for her gun. Something was terribly wrong.

Fighting the sense of urgency that compelled her to rush forward and shield Relena, Noin breathed deeply and turned away from her charge to scan the surrounding landscape. The security was too tight for a potential killer to reach the delegates in person, so a long-range weapon was the most likely possibility. _If I were a sniper, _she asked herself, _where would I be?_ The hills across the lake? Too remote, and too high for a clear line of sight under the pennants and canopies. There was always a possibility of danger in the crowd, but the motion of the group was unpredictable, so there would be no guarantee of a clear shot. A sniper would need a vantage point that was nearby, but protected, isolated enough to minimize outside interference…

Noin whirled back toward the building and scanned the line of the roof, but her angle was too low to see above the gutters. In an instant she had elbowed a protesting Catorce off of the railing and had taken his place. Most of the roof was hidden by piles of leftover construction materials, which made visibility difficult. The sun flashed suddenly off a cluster of metal pipes, and she squinted against its brilliance. A reflection like that meant that something was moving—

She saw the long, slender barrel nose out among the pipes. There was no time to reach Relena, and she had no weapon to stop the sniper. Whirling precariously atop the railing, she saw that Zechs and Relena had boarded a boat and were being carried away from shore, a clear target. He was the only one who could protect her now.

"Zechs, seven o'clock!" she screamed, leaping to the ground and charging forward even though she knew she would be too late. At her voice her partner spun and tucked Relena behind him, eyes scanning the crowds for the threat. His gaze flicked up to the roof, and he pushed his sister down into the boat just as the muzzle flashed.

Noin saw the gunman scramble back across the roof after one shot, and shouted orders as she charged through the crowd. After a few seconds lost to confusion, the other guards began to spread out around the building's perimeter. Each of the exits had already been sealed for the safety of the delegates. The sniper wouldn't escape.

Noin paused at the corner of the building to glance back, concern overruling duty for a moment. The sight wrenched her to a full halt, and she stared back at the scene on the water for a moment without comprehending.

The delegates were immobile, shocked. Relena was leaning over the side of the ferry, eyes fixed on a circle of widening ripples on the lake's surface. Zechs was nowhere to be seen.

- - -

Noin sat in a dim closet, looking over her partner's prone body, and cursed architects with no foresight.

When the Lake Victoria Academy was built, it had been considered a state-of-the-art educational facility. It boasted, among other things, an enormous library, advanced military technology in all of the lecture halls, and a full-service medical facility that surpassed any of the local hospitals. The medical center had been located in the center of the complex, ostensibly to protect the wounded in case of an attack on the military base. It was surrounded by classrooms that could double as bunkers. The design was sound, and in Noin's memory there had been no damage to that area when the base had been bombed by one of the Gundam pilots.

After the war, an enterprising architect had proposed converting the sprawling former military facility into a convention hall. The idea had been lauded (and bankrolled) by the new Earth government, and soon the military fixtures and defense structures of the Lake Victoria Base had been hauled away for scrap – along with medical equipment, worth millions, which had undoubtedly been sold to cut construction costs. The new designs included plans for a large auditorium, conveniently situated in the very center of the complex (for reasons unknown, as there was already an auditorium at the north end of the campus). The builders had torn out the lecture halls and medical center and replaced them with an enormous theater, and had refitted the other classrooms and remaining dormitories. The Victoria Conference was scheduled before the dust had settled, both as a housewarming to the new budget-devouring convention center, and to glorify the efforts of the planetary government to recycle a worthless wartime relic into a productive, peace-friendly site.

Belatedly, someone had ascertained the need for an emergency medical station, and – for lack of a suitable room, such as one without built-in stadium seating – had stocked a former custodial closet with first-aid supplies and a folding gurney.

That was where Noin found herself now, seated in a stiff picnic chair beside Zechs' unconscious form. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, wishing for a respirator or a heart monitor, and ground her teeth in frustration. The on-site paramedic had just dug a bullet out of the man's body, after all. He should have been under supervision in a hospital, not reposing in an oversized broom closet with his feet hanging off a too-short gurney. The IV dripped in morose agreement, dangling from its makeshift coat-rack-and-electrical-tape stand.

In a rare moment of nostalgia – and because she was tired of staring at the dust mops – Noin closed her eyes and reached back for memories of the original medical facility. As one of the Academy's top performers, she had sent a number of other students there by trouncing them in mock battles or hand-to-hand combat. OZ protocol dictated that the victor should escort his or her wounded comrade to the medical center and ensure that there were no hard feelings. She'd always thought it was a silly system. It was humiliating to the losers, and after all, how often in battle was a soldier likely to pick up a fallen opponent and carry him back to the field hospital? Looking back, she could see Treize's fingerprints all over the ritual – _honor above victory, the value of each soldier's life, the beauty of a true fighting spirit _– but she was sure that the resentment of her fellow students burned against her despite Treize's good intentions.

Noin's own record was nearly flawless, and she had been escorted to the medical center by only one person – her Academy rival, the reclusive, faceless Zechs Merquise. Noin smiled with the recollection; he'd been just as annoyed by the procedure as she had. There had been plenty of hard feelings afterwards, but they gradually had been replaced by softer ones.

Zechs coughed roughly in his sleep, and Noin was leaning over him in an instant, checking his breathing and heartbeat. She surmised that there was scar tissue around his lungs from his disastrous first attempt to use the Tallgeese in battle, as his body had never had a chance to recover from that trauma. The assassin's bullet appeared to have missed his vital organs, for all they could tell without real medical equipment, but it must have come close enough to aggravate the old wounds. Satisfied that he was in no immediate danger, she sat again and leaned forward with elbows on her knees.

Noin knew her partner was resilient; he had come back from the edge of death again and again. But the stillness of his body terrified her, and she found herself checking his pulse every few minutes. She had imagined this too often during his twelve-month absence.

"Wake up, Zechs," she murmured through the fingers of the hand that was propping up her chin. "I don't want to wait another year."

Zechs Merquise had been presumed dead after he self-detonated in an attempt to destroy Barge and the Peacemillion before they fell to Earth. Noin had known, _sensed_ somehow, that he was still alive, but a year had passed with no sign of him. She had endured her companions' knowing looks and sympathetic words, but she'd never given up her belief that he would return. In the end, she'd been proven right; when Relena was abducted and Dekim Barton's troops threatened the fragile peace that Earth and the colonies were trying to build, Zechs miraculously reappeared, just in time to help save the planet. Again.

After the Eve Wars ended, Zechs had reclaimed his birth name and, as Milliard Peacecraft, signed on to direct a complex terraformation project on Mars. Noin, now his partner in the Preventers organization, had gone with him. There was no mention of what had happened during his year-long absence. Noin had never asked, and he never volunteered the information.

The terraforming project had gone well, but they hadn't stayed long on the desolate red planet. Although he tried to hide it from her, Noin could tell that her partner was troubled. He seemed to be haunted by disturbing dreams; every night, she would hear him wake from a fitful sleep and pace his quarters. Sometimes she would rise to check on him, only to find him staring out at the clear night sky, where he'd stand for hours. He was also easily distracted – something he'd never been, in the years she'd known him – and she would often catch him frowning off into a corner, his mind in another world.

Noin also saw that Zechs missed his sister deeply. He'd never been too sentimental about Relena, aside from a stern commitment to her welfare, but now he seemed far more emotionally attached. Perhaps being "dead" for a year had softened him. Noin didn't know what had caused the change, but she could see that camping on a deserted planet away from his only family was not helping his condition.

They had returned to Earth after only half a year, and Milliard Peacecraft had joined the Senate, a mediator between his home planet and the colonies he'd crusaded for during the war. The public – more forgiving than Zechs himself – had forgotten the atrocities he'd committed as the leader of White Fang, and embraced him as the hero of the Eve Wars and another strong political voice like Relena Darlian.

Becoming a public figure had served to make his private life even more shuttered. Noin rarely saw him demonstrate any emotion while he was in the public eye; and even in private, with Relena or herself, he hardly ever dropped the mask to express himself openly. Occasionally, when he was exhausted by his duties, he would relax his guard, speaking and laughing almost like a normal human. Noin treasured those casual moments, even though it had been difficult to see her partner so worn down. It was reassuring to see him sprawled somewhere with a book (Zechs read voraciously), or tinkering with one of the many clocks he'd collected.

That was another new quirk that had surfaced after his return from space. Somewhere along the way, it seemed that Zechs had developed an affinity for timepieces. Noin didn't understand why her partner found clocks so engrossing. Perhaps it had something to do with his own perfectionist tendencies, or maybe he admired the delicacy of the mechanical parts involved in keeping the time. Whatever the reason, it was a harmless enough compulsion, and it gave him something to do during his limited free time. Plus, his hobby had the added benefit of making Christmas shopping incredibly easy for herself and Relena.

In a moment of impetuous curiosity, Noin turned back the cuff of her unconscious partner's sleeve. She smiled with childish delight when she saw that he was wearing the watch she'd given him.

Zechs was breathing a little more quickly, now, and she watched closely for signs of his waking. After a few more minutes, he became restless. His eyes were still closed, but his lips moved in silent phrases, and Noin leaned close to catch the faint words. She couldn't make sense of what he whispered; some of it seemed to be in a language she didn't know, or perhaps it was just nonsensical mumbling.

Eventually he blinked himself awake, and Noin welcomed him back to the land of the living. It took him some time to grope back to complete consciousness, but after a few moments he found his voice. "Relena?" he rasped as soon as he could speak.

Noin smiled; she had predicted what his first question would be. "She's fine," she answered softly. "She's barricaded in her quarters with four guards at the door, and two more in her anteroom. The rest are stationed around the perimeter. The sniper has been detained, and it appears he was working alone, but we're not taking any chances."

Her partner nodded, but eyed her curiously, as if to question why she was away from her post when her charge was in danger. Noin hesitated a moment, then added, "Relena gave me a different assignment. She instructed me to keep an eye on you, so I'm staying with you until the trade negotiations resume tomorrow afternoon."

Zechs closed his eyes and gave a weak attempt at a derisive snort. "She worries too much," he said. "My injury is hardly life-threatening. She should think more of her own safety."

Noin flashed a wry grin. "Your sister said the same of you," she commented. "And you did save her life today, so she has a right to make a fuss. And beside that…" Noin flushed a little. "She knew I would rather be here. She quoted something to me about partners supporting each other, and told me to stay with you as long as I needed to."

Zechs' frost-colored eyes met hers for a long, profound moment. Noin drew closer, leaning forward on the edge of the bed, but before she could shape her thoughts into words her hand snagged on the rickety metal frame.

"Ouch!" Noin jerked her hand back and examined the tip of one finger.

Zechs inclined his head to look at her. "Are you all right?"

Noin nodded. "Just caught my finger on the sharp edge," she explained, more annoyed by the broken atmosphere than the injury. She squeezed the cut to make sure it bled cleanly, then began searching around the room. "I suppose if this is the medical center, they ought to have adhesive bandages somewhere. Do you see any?"

Zechs didn't answer. He had turned his head away from her and was pressing his face hard into the sheets. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the line of his jaw was rigid with tension. Noin tore open a package of paper towels and wrapped her finger. She turned back to him to make a comment, but froze when she saw his condition.

"Zechs?" She gripped his arm, avoiding the IV needle. "What is it?"

After a moment he opened one eye and swiveled it toward her, glancing first at the hand with the makeshift bandage. When he saw it he relaxed visibly, letting out the shaky breath he'd been holding. Noin dabbed at his forehead with a paper towel, her face furrowed with concern.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I was… blood…" He shook his head faintly. "Never mind."

Noin chewed her lip as she stared at him. Zechs wouldn't react to the sight of blood, any more than she would. He had been on the battlefield since he was six years old. He had seen thousands of soldiers die. He had suffered severe internal injuries during the operation to retake his homeland, to the point where he was coughing nearly as much blood as he was breathing air, and even then Noin had practically had to sit on him to keep him out of the cockpit until the next morning. What could possibly make him shy away from a drop of blood, now, after this many years of being saturated with it?

Either her partner was lying to her, or he had become completely neurotic. Neither option was something Noin wanted to consider.

Zechs was staring at the ceiling with that vague, unfocused expression he'd adopted during their time on Mars. It was disturbing to see him zoned out like that, but under the circumstances, she supposed he had a right to take his mind someplace other than this gloomy closet. After a few minutes, Zechs broke the silence, his voice drifting as if he were far away.

"Noin… do you believe in vampires?"

Noin gaped, unable to believe what she'd just heard coming from her partner's mouth. The man she knew wouldn't even have qualified that question with a response. What in the world was going on in his head?

"No, I don't," Noin answered firmly, when she had recovered from the initial shock. "And if you're about to tell me that you've been bitten by one, I'm plugging morphine into this IV and not letting you off of it until this latest bout of insanity has run its course. Now get some sleep; you need rest if you're going to recover."

Zechs glanced over at her, an odd expression – disappointment? – on his face, but he nodded dutifully and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his even breathing made it apparent that he was asleep.

Noin sat back in her chair, still staring at him in shock. She wanted to shake him and scream, _Who are you and what have you done with my partner?_ But she knew it would be useless; after so many years of studying him, she had no doubt that the man before her was the real Zechs. She had memorized the tiniest details of his appearance: the long eyelashes; the distinctive calluses worn into his hands by years of mobile suit piloting; the narrow scar on his neck, just beneath the left ear, that he'd gotten during their second year at the Academy. And of course there was no mistaking the pale blue eyes and his platinum hair, which now looked almost white against the smooth bronze of his skin.

Bronze? She didn't remember his skin being that dark before. The bright sunlight earlier must have made him appear paler than he was. When _had_ he gotten a tan, anyway?

For months, his erratic behavior had been advancing, little by little. Noin had theorized and speculated and rationalized to try to explain the change, but still she had no answers. She knew that Epyon and Wing Zero, both of which Zechs had piloted, did strange things to the human mind. She had heard stories from the Gundam pilots about those mobile suits; even her dear friend, quiet, peaceful Quatre, had annihilated an entire colony after the system had tainted his reason. But Heero had piloted those two suits as well, and he'd shown no lasting effects. And as Zechs' odd behavior was anything but violent, it didn't seem likely that the ZERO system was still influencing him.

She'd also heard rumors of hereditary disorders – what was generally called insanity, though it was likely a result of centuries of inbreeding – running in many of the old royal bloodlines of Europe. She didn't know if any lunatic monarchs had been hidden away in the dark history of the Cinq Kingdom, though. Milliard and Relena were the only surviving members of the Peacecraft family, and Relena's elderly steward Pargan wasn't talking. There was no one else to ask. She regretted not having time to research Cinq's history during the war, while she had been living there as Relena's security chief.

Of course, Zechs had been missing for a year, to who knew where. Anything could have happened during that time. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it; every time someone had hinted at his long hiatus in conversation, Zechs had become even more closed, as if the topic pained him. Noin couldn't bring herself to pry into a memory that so obviously disturbed him.

Whatever the reason, he was undeniably changing. Noin had vowed to follow him anywhere, and she stood by her promise. Still, every time he behaved strangely, she was haunted by a renewed fear that he might go where she was unable to follow.

A wave of something like despair pulled at her thoughts. Noin pushed it away, attributing it to the emotional turmoil of the day's events. Carefully, avoiding the sharp edge she'd discovered earlier, Noin pillowed her head on her arms beside her partner's body. She stayed that way, listening to his even breathing, for several long minutes…

As she relaxed her mental focus, her mind began to swim through the events of that morning. The scene began to play out in her thoughts; she saw the swirling crowd, the hazy glint of sun on the water, the drifting boats with their cargo of faceless delegates. The crowd receded into the blurry background as she watched Relena and Zechs climb into a boat and push off from shore. She heard a loud crack like a gunshot and waited anxiously, knowing that she would see Zechs fall, but nothing happened. She turned to look where the sniper should have been, but what she saw instead was a circle of darkness suspended in the air. It yawned with a profound emptiness, a paralyzing, terrifying nihility that whispered of nothing and cold and absolute oblivion. The void was moving toward them, absorbing everything in its path like a black hole, and growing ever larger…

Her radio buzzed abruptly, bringing her sharply back to the stark broom closet. Muttering things that shouldn't be in the vocabulary of a respectable political attaché, she scrambled out into the hallway so that the noise wouldn't wake Zechs.

"Miss Noin?" a voice crackled when she answered the call. It sounded like Catorce. Young, inexperienced, didn't know radio protocol…

"What is it?" Noin tried not to snap at him, but she was not in the mood to tolerate amateurish blundering. After she dealt with this, she could go back to her partner's bedside, and perhaps catch a few more minutes' sleep while he rested. She tried to rub the disturbing afterimage of the dream out of her eyes.

"There's… something happening, ma'am," Catorce's unsteady voice replied. "I think you ought to know about it. Can you come to the security tent? Well, I suppose you don't have to come anywhere in particular, it's all over the place out here…"

"Mr. Catorce, what areyou talking about? What's all over the place?" Noin turned at a sound behind her, and nearly dropped the communicator when she saw Zechs standing unsteadily in the doorway. She began to protest, but he held up a shaky hand to indicate that he wanted to listen to the response. He was frowning intently.

"The… the _blurry_, ma'am. Things are going all fuzzy, like they're starting to disappear. They say it might be some new weapon, but I don't know why anyone would want to make the bushes go away…"

Noin looked up at her partner, and was surprised that his expression didn't mirror her own confusion. His normally-unreadable face wore a mixture of shock and horror.

"We need to get out there," he said, his tone declaring that he had no intention of staying in bed to rest.

Noin sighed, but knew better than to try to persuade him otherwise. "We'll be right there," she told Catorce. She pulled Zechs' arm across her shoulders and supported him with an arm around his waist, ignoring his feeble protest that he could walk on his own, and began to lead her wounded partner toward the main entrance.

Noin's skin prickled in apprehension the moment they stepped into the sunlight, and she felt Zechs tense beside her. They understood why Catorce had sounded so nervous; it seemed the world really was going _blurry_. All around them, tiny details were missing – the leaves of a bush were fused together into one green mass; the gravel of the walkway was an even sheet of grey, as if it had become two-dimensional. Even the lake was one uniform shade of blue, with no visible waves or reflections. Noin's eyes burned as they skimmed across the flat planes of color, and after a moment she had to look hard at the threads on her sleeve to allow them to focus properly.

Her eyes traveled from her jacket to her fingers, circling her partner's wrist, and she blinked a few times to make sure that her eyes were indeed working properly. Zechs' sleeve was pushed back, exposing part of his forearm, and she stared in shock at the difference between the color of his arm and her hand. She'd noticed his tan earlier, but now she saw that his skin was a dark olive, making her own Mediterranean coloring look white by comparison. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers, and gasped when she saw lighter skin where her hand had been.

She dragged him under the shelter of a nearby tree, recoiling from the indefinite texture of the bark but thankful for the shade. "Zechs," she said urgently, "your skin is turning like a radiation badge. How long has this been happening?"

Zechs glanced away, looking vaguely sheepish. "I've been more sensitive to sunlight since we came back," he said. "It must have been all that time on Mars, away from the sun."

Noin tapped the lighter patch on his wrist, where the outline of her fingers was still visible. "I know you have a fair complexion, but this is ridiculous! If you were just sensitive, then you ought to be burning, not tanning. How fast does your skin recover from this?"

He was saved from answering by Catorce's shout. "Miss Noin!" the young Preventer called as he jogged toward them. "They've called an emergency meeting in the pavilion by the lake, and everybody's supposed to meet there." He stopped and cocked his head at Zechs. "Didn't somebody shoot you, Senator Peacecraft? I didn't think you'd be out and about already. But I guess it's okay since they got the bullet out, right?"

A gentle squeeze on Noin's shoulder arrested her forward motion before she could do any bodily damage to the rookie, and she suppressed a groan. Zechs was right; although punting Catorce's head across Lake Victoria would be excellent stress relief, it would not help them in the current situation.

They headed toward the pavilion, Catorce bounding ahead and then circling back like a restless puppy, unable to hold himself to Zechs' slower pace. They reached the platform where Noin and Catorce had stood that morning, and Noin paused to let her partner rest for a moment. Blood was beginning to seep through his shirt, but Noin didn't have the materials to make a new bandage, and Zechs wouldn't want her to waste time fussing over his injury.

Zechs coughed again, clutching at his side beneath the stain on his shirt. Noin winced in sympathetic pain, watching with concern as his body convulsed. The cough sounded deeper now than it had before, and Noin began to wonder if their earlier assumption had been wrong. They had thought that the bullet had done minimal damage as it ricocheted off of one rib and lodged beneath another, but the rasp in Zechs' breathing sounded as if the bullet might have grazed his lung as well.

"Let's go on to the pavilion," she urged, trying to sound encouraging and not patronizing. "You'll have a place to sit there. Standing is putting too much strain on your body right now."

They started forward, but had taken only a few steps when they heard a terrified squawk from Catorce, just ahead of them on the platform. He was standing rigid, wide eyes fixed on a point across the lake, mouth hanging open in shock.

Warily, they followed his gaze, and for a moment Noin couldn't understand why he was so terrified – she could see nothing on the other side of the lake to frighten him.

And suddenly she understood, because there _was_ nothing on the other side of the lake.

"The mountains appear to be… gone," Zechs murmured beside her, squinting doubtfully. "Do you see the same thing?"

"It's what I don't see that worries me," Noin answered warily. "I don't see any reflections on the water. I don't see any clouds in the sky, and I am most particularly not seeing the green hills of Victoria. Or even the other shore of the lake, for that matter."

"They were there this morning," Catorce whimpered, finally finding his voice. He was creeping backwards toward them, grasping for security in numbers, but his eyes remained fixed on the horizon as if the nonexistent landscape might simply be lying in wait for an opportunity to reach out and snatch him when he wasn't looking.

Noin turned in a quick circle, confirming her fears. Everything beyond a moderate visual distance had simply ceased to exist; it was as if the world had been condensed into a small flat disc, and the horizon had been brought closer as a result. The black abyss from her dream surfaced in her mind, and she pushed the unpleasant thought away.

Catorce was dancing nervously from one foot to the other, and Noin finally sent him ahead. "Go to the pavilion," she ordered. "Listen to what is said in the meeting. One of us should be there, and at the moment you're the fastest. Hurry." Catorce, revived by being given a definite purpose, dashed off on his mission at top speed.

"Thank heaven," muttered Zechs as he left, and Noin realized just how much the young Preventer had managed to annoy her partner. She would have found it amusing, at another time, when she was not preoccupied with more immediate concerns. Zechs was already sagging against her shoulder, weak from loss of blood.

"Zechs…" she began softly, looking up at his strained face. He shook his head, asking her not to vocalize what both of them had already realized.

Instead, he looked around to indicate the washed-out panorama that had once been the campus of their Academy. "This is the end," he said quietly.

Noin bit her lip, fighting a sudden surge of emotion. Zechs' hand tightened on her shoulder, and she laced her fingers through his. They stood that way for a few moments, drawing strength from each other.

And then the end of the world came.

The first sounds came from the pavilion, where most of the attendees had congregated. Screams and shouts fluttered to them across the platform, sounding flat and remote now that there was nothing for the sound to echo against. They could see the crowd surging in chaos beneath the blurry awnings. The careful landscaping around the buildings was beginning to waver and grow faint – no longer fuzzy or indistinct, but transparent. The horizon closed even nearer, and the shade tree they'd stood under a few minutes before was beginning to wink out of existence.

Noin nearly cried out as a staggering _awareness _wrenched her mind. The abyss she'd seen in her dream pulled at her consciousness – she could feel it tugging at her, devouring the world around her as it drew nearer. With a dreadful certainty, she knew Zechs was right. This was the end of the world. Everything they'd lived and fought and died to accomplish was being sucked into that dark void, swallowed by the blackness of oblivion.

Paradoxically, once the initial shock had passed, the realization gave her conviction instead of fear. She didn't feel like a person about to die; rather, she felt a surge of new strength, as if facing the end had given her purpose.

"Noin…" Her partner's soft voice came to her over the clamor. She blinked her eyes back into focus and turned to find him braced against the railing. His expression was full of pain, but it wasn't from his injuries. "Find Relena," he pleaded. "Take my place at her side. I can't protect her like this."

Noin hesitated – _he _was the one she truly wanted to protect, and in his condition he probably needed it more than his sister – but she nodded dutifully. Relena was the most important thing in the world to Zechs. If anything happened to her, he would consider his own life wasted.

Noin touched his arm lightly, drawing his eyes to hers. "I'll come back for you," she promised. Zechs held her gaze for a moment longer and nodded in understanding.

She dashed toward the pavilion at top speed, the image of his face still burning in her eyes. She would gather her loved ones, the only family she knew, and face the calamity beside them. She was sure she could protect them, somehow…

Her resolve was briefly derailed by a disturbance in the path before her, and she skidded to a halt just short of a point where the air above the walkway warped and wobbled. She squinted, trying to determine if this was just another optical disturbance like the blurry leaves of the bushes. With a soft _pop_ a patch of bright light appeared, almost where she'd been standing. She threw herself backward, and the light became a doorway through which dozens of oddly-dressed persons poured onto the path.

Noin blinked. Had it been some kind of attack, after all?

After a moment, the flow of invaders slowed, and through the block of light dropped one last person. He was neatly attired in a prim grey suit, but with an odd round hat on his head. In one hand, he carried a black umbrella. He glanced around briefly, then smiled at Noin.

"Hullo," he said, touching his hat brim politely. "I do hate to be rude, but I'm afraid we really must hurry. Would you mind accompanying me through this portal, my dear?" He reached for her arm.

Noin spun with a roundhouse kick to the man's midsection. Her foot connected, but it was the umbrella that gave under the force of her blow. The man in the grey suit tumbled backward with a grunt, and Noin took off for the pavilion at double speed.

The crowd had begun to disperse by the time she reached the vast shaded area under the awnings, in no small part due to the strange-looking invaders who seemed to be hustling the terrified delegates off toward various exits. Noin leapt onto one of the broad tables to skim the crowd, but a quick survey confirmed that Relena was not in the area. Either she'd already been taken by the newcomers, or she'd never been in the pavilion to begin with.

Something _nudged _her mind, feeling unpleasantly like the unbidden pull of the void she'd felt earlier. Noin closed her eyes, responding to the mental prod, and quested toward it.

A field of light slowly burned into place behind her eyes. She could see patches among the darkness, flat planes that must have been all that was left of their world. She focused on the glow around her, applying it like a map, and reached out for any trace or essence that might lead her to Relena. All around the edge of the area she could feel the void eating at the light, devouring the space as a slug gnaws at a leaf. It was advancing most rapidly to the east, in the direction of the barracks…

Even before her eyes were fully open, Noin was off the table and running again. Relena had been cloistered in her quarters, surrounded by guards because of the assassination attempt. It was likely that she'd stayed there, in assumed safety, when the first signs of disaster appeared.

Footsteps charged after her, and a brief glance over her shoulder revealed the man in the suit and a few of his cohorts following. Noin charged forward with an extra burst of speed. She didn't have time to be distracted by them; Relena was in danger.

The guards at the outer doors had long since abandoned their posts, and the ones inside were probably terrified. She slowed her pace as she came to the hallway where she and Relena had lodged. As she rounded the final corner, she sensed danger and flung herself against the wall as a bullet ricocheted down the marble hall.

"Hold fire!" Noin screamed over the deafening echoes of the gunshot. The guard finally nosed around his alcove, and began stammering an apology as soon as he recognized his commander. Noin jogged past him, not pausing to ream him out for his recklessness.

Relena looked up as Noin entered. She was curled up in an armchair, clutching a book but not even trying to read. Noin had never seen her look so much like a frightened teenage girl.

"Miss Noin," Relena breathed, caught between relief and fear. "What's happening?"

Noin hesitated. "We need to go," she said, avoiding the question. "You're in danger here. We must leave at once."

Relena nodded – Noin was grateful that she had the girl's complete trust, and didn't have to waste precious time explaining – and picked up a small handbag from the table beside her. "I'm ready," she said, rising to stand beside Noin. "Where are we going?"

"There is nowhere to go, if you're planning on just running away," a smooth baritone voice interrupted. Noin whirled and stepped in front of Relena, placing her body between her charge and the grey-suited man, who was leaning casually against the door frame. He smiled amiably at them and saluted Noin with his umbrella.

"You have quite a kick, my dear," he said. "I don't believe this will open again. A pity; I was rather fond of this one." He hooked the handle of the umbrella over his arm and gestured toward the door. "Now, if you'd come this way, I'd be happy to show you the way to safety."

Noin didn't move. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The man in the suit sighed. "I really do wish there were time to explain. I am a member of an independent organization that monitors situations like this one, and at the moment our goal is to get as many of you as possible out of this place before it ceases to exist."

Relena gasped, and Noin eyed the man warily. "You mean to say that you had nothing to do with this? You just arrived afterward?"

The man touched the brim of his round hat. "I pledge my word of honor. We're here only to contain the damage. There is nothing to be gained from this kind of destruction, anyway; we could have no possible motive for wanting to destroy your world."

Noin blinked at his words – _your world _– but decided to let it lie for the moment. "We haven't much time," she said. "The void is closing in on us here. You mentioned a place of safety. Is it far?"

The man stared at her in open surprise. "The portals," he answered, recovering quickly. "They lead to a stable environment at our headquarters. You'll be safe there, but we must hurry."

Noin took a deep breath, and made her decision. "Then please look after Relena," she said, ushering the girl forward. "She _must _reach safety."

Relena turned and clutched at Noin's sleeve. "Miss Noin, you're coming too, aren't you?"

Noin shook her head apologetically. "There's something I must do first."

Relena released her arm and held her purse tightly. "Is my brother…" She bit her lip and turned imploring eyes up to Noin's face.

Noin smiled with a confidence she wasn't sure she felt. "I'm going to go find him," she said softly. "You needn't worry. I'm sure he'll be all right."

The man in the grey suit called to one of his colleagues – a sharply-dressed woman with layered blonde hair – and gave her orders to escort Relena and the room guards to the main portal. The blonde nodded and wrapped her arm around Relena's shoulders in a big-sisterly fashion. Relena paused at the doorway and looked back over her shoulder.

"You and my brother will catch up soon, won't you, Miss Noin?"

Noin nodded and smiled, and as she watched the woman lead Relena out of the room she prayed she was making the right decision.

Noin led the way out of the building, feeling the pressure of the empty blackness close behind her. As they left the barracks the man in the grey suit gave orders to his other associate, a slouching young man who answered to Wilmer, and then caught up with Noin.

"You seem to have an understanding of what's going on here," the man in the suit said as he jogged after her. "I'm afraid we're short on manpower for a job like this. Can you help us gather those who are left?"

Noin glanced back at him. He seemed in earnest, and she didn't sense anything malicious in his attitude. "I have to find my partner," she tossed over her shoulder as she sprinted toward the dock. The man in the suit jogged after her. "When he's safe, I can help you, but…" She trailed off as she reached the place she'd left Zechs.

The platform was abandoned. Distantly, she could see the faint shimmering of the portal that hung over the path. Beyond that was the vague outline of the pavilion, already thinned to a shadow and probably only moments from disappearing entirely.

Noin turned in all directions, scanning for Zechs' familiar figure, but she saw only members of the group that had come with the man in the grey suit, occasionally escorting a lost diplomat toward a portal. She examined the barrier where he'd been standing, but aside from a few coagulating drops of blood on the ground, there was no sign of him.

"He might have been taken to safety already," suggested the man in the suit. Noin nodded absently, but braced herself against the railing and closed her eyes. She had to try everything in her power to find him. This had worked last time…

She envisioned the traces of light again, a much sparser plane than before, and stretched out to the small patch that surrounded her. She oriented herself and drew a map of the area to overlay the patches of light and shadow. She felt she could reach out and touch the blackness, it was so near. Now it seemed to be advancing most rapidly to the south, pressing forward toward what had been the picnic grounds. She quested out toward that area, looking closely for any sign…

With a sudden gasp, her eyes flew open. She saw the man in the suit looking at her strangely, but didn't pause to evaluate his reaction. "There are more people there," she breathed. "To the south, beside the lake. They're hiding. The blackness is about to take them…"

Her vision blurred as a wave of dizziness struck her, and she clutched her head until it passed. When she again opened her eyes, it was to see the man in the grey suit giving orders to a cluster of his confederates. They jogged off in the direction of the picnic area, led by Wilmer, and the man in the grey suit turned back to her.

"I don't know how you can sense these things," he said gravely, "but we're almost out of time. If there is anyone else here, we need to know before it's too late to save them. Can you tell us if we've missed anyone?"

Noin rubbed at her temple, where a lancing pain was beginning to stab behind her right eye. "I don't know how I can sense them, either," she said unsteadily. "I can only see the darkness…"

"Please," the man said earnestly, "try. It could mean life or death for them. You can do something that we cannot, and we haven't time to search everywhere."

Noin nodded and closed her eyes again, reaching out through the pale light, searching for Zechs, for anyone. The pain in her head was beginning to throb with her heartbeat, and as her mind reached out and touched the blackness, something exploded, showering hot sparks across her vision, and she was falling…

She felt faint pressure on her body as someone lifted her, and a tingling sensation that must have been the portal, washing over her like a wave of light. After that, there was only blessed silence.

- - -

There was a voice, somewhere, muffled. It rose and fell indistinctly, unintelligibly. She focused on the sound, concentrating through the haze that blocked her eyes and ears. The voice resolved into words, then sentences, and then into half of a conversation.

"Only one casualty among our own operatives. Yes, Wilmer again. Nothing serious; I believe it was his arm. I agree; I'm thinking of taking him off security altogether."

Noin groped through foggy memories, trying to place the name Wilmer. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't think of anyone by that name among her recruits. Perhaps one of the new transfer students…

"No, sir. We're not entirely sure, but when we get the final numbers I'll submit it along with the full report. Yes, sir."

Report? Had there been some incident? She tried to remember the most recent training sessions, but for some reason her memories of the Academy were vague. She remembered that she had graduated, and then she had become an instructor… So many students, so many new names to remember. But there was something after that, wasn't there?

"Yes, sir, I'm keeping her separated from the others for now, at least until she recovers a little. I believe there is some potential. Certainly as an operative, and possibly an Arcane Specialist. No, there's nothing to suggest it in her case history. That's why I thought it might be viable outside of her own world."

There had been a war, she remembered. The base had been attacked, and her students had died, murdered in their sleep. But she had fought, and the war had ended. And then there was another war, and they fought in that one as well, and ended it. And she and Zechs had gone to Mars and back, and then…

Zechs. Where was Zechs?

"We won't know until she wakes up. She does have an impressive record, with plenty of leadership experience. It's possible that she fits the bill for the other position, as well, although I'm sure you'll want to decide that after you see her in action."

Where was the voice coming from? She could see nothing but a grey blur; perhaps her eyes were still refusing to focus. The voice was pleasant despite the serious tone, and the words were faintly accented. It was unfamiliar, though she felt she had heard it somewhere before… recently… asking her… _Please try. It could mean life or death for them…_

Pain lanced behind her eyes and the memories rushed back, overwhelming her. Blackness, Relena, white portals, and… where was Zechs? She'd been searching for him when she overreached and brushed the darkness. She couldn't stifle a whimper as she recalled the pull of the void just before blacking out.

"She appears to be coming round now," the voice said. "I'll mention it to her, and give her some time to think about it. We can always give her a fresh start if she declines. Yes, sir, I will. Thank you."

Noin tried to curl up in a fetal position, the only defense she could attempt, but her body felt sluggish and restricted. Footsteps drew nearer, and she braced herself for whatever was coming. There was a pause, and then a hand gently shook her shoulder. Noin froze.

"Miss Noin? Are you awake?" After a moment, the hand moved toward her head, and suddenly the dim blur before her eyes was replaced by a dull white light as a heavy grey blanket was lifted a few inches. "Miss Noin?"

Noin blinked, adjusting to the light, and turned her head to acknowledge the speaker. She was not surprised to see the man in the neat grey suit, although he looked a little more tired and his round hat was gone.

"I apologize for the, ah, rude awakening," he said, "but I had hoped to have a chance to speak with you. I'm afraid we're still on a bit of a tight schedule, but I promise you'll have a chance to rest after we get things sorted out a bit."

Fully awake, Noin pushed back the stifling blanket and righted herself. She had apparently been deposited on a narrow bunk in the corner of some kind of office. She ran a hand through the hair that clung to her damp face, not daring to imagine what she must look like. The man in the grey suit retrieved a chair and sat facing her.

"What is this place?" Noin asked before the man could speak again. Her throat was dry, and she was desperately thirsty.

"Specifically, this is the half of my office that doubles as my emergency quarters," he said. "Speaking more generally, we are in the headquarters of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Fictional Characters. But don't try to sort all of that out just yet; I'll explain it in a bit." The man smiled amiably, and Noin found herself warming to him despite her better judgment. "But first, if we are to have a discussion, we should not remain strangers. My name is Steed. At your service." He offered her a card. Noin examined it briefly – it was a simple calling card, black script on plain white stock:

__

Sir John Steed, K.B.E.  
Director

"Director?" Noin read. "Of what?"

"Of the SPCFC," Steed replied. "But as I told you, I'll explain that later. Now, I'd like to explain what exactly happened to your world. I also have a few questions for you, but those can wait as well."

Noin looked at him evenly. "I need only two things answered right away. First: Is my home – the place that you keep calling 'my world' – is there any way to restore it or return to it?"

Steed blinked, taken aback by her directness, but his face softened when he answered. "No. The place you knew was destroyed."

Noin nodded curtly, not permitting herself an emotional reaction. "Second: What happened to the people who were taken out of that place before it was destroyed?"

Steed looked slightly perplexed. "We're trying to sort all of that out, at the moment," he answered. "Since everything was done in such a hurry, we didn't have a chance to record all the transfers. But we know where most of them were placed, and we're attempting to track the rest." He smiled. "But rest assured, everyone we pulled out of your world is safe."

"What about those who were left behind?"

His face tightened. "I'm afraid they were lost, with the rest of the world. We did our best, but there simply wasn't enough time. But thanks to your help, we managed to save many more of them."

Noin nodded faintly, feeling overwhelmed. "I need to find two people – the girl I sent with you, and the man I was looking for when…"

Steed shook his head, interrupting her. "You'll have to give us some time on that," he said. "As I said, it will take us a while to track everyone."

Noin licked parched lips and rubbed her forehead, where the nagging pain still lingered. "Perhaps you had better explain what happened, after all," she said quietly.

"This may be hard for you to accept," Steed began. "Most people have a difficult time with the concept. But before I can explain to you what happened, or even what we do here, you must understand this one basic, fundamental truth: You, and everyone you have known, were created to fill a specific purpose. That purpose was to complete the scenario of your world."

Noin raised an eyebrow. "In the vernacular, please?"

Steed eyed her. "That _was_ in the vernacular. How about this: Have you ever heard it postulated that we're all just characters written into someone's story?"

"I've heard something similar. Personally, I always thought it was a rather silly theory."

"It's not a theory," Steed said. "It's actually pretty close to the truth – or as much of the truth as we're allowed to know. But that's an entirely different debate."

Noin blinked for several seconds as she digested this, and suddenly her eyes widened in comprehension. "You said… this was the Society of something… of Fictional Characters…?"

Steed nodded. "The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Fictional Characters. The SPCFC."

"Then the fictional characters… are us?"

Steed nodded.

Noin stared at him, unable to speak. _Roll with it_, a voice in her mind advised. _You can always deny it later._

There was silence in the room while her mind struggled with the concept. "Assuming, for the moment, that we really are just characters in some storybook," Noin said finally, "what brought about the end of the world? Did we reach the final page or something? Because if so, it was a lousy ending."

Steed chuckled sympathetically. "I'd have to agree," he said. "And if that were the way the story had been written, I'd demand a full refund. But in this case, your story wasn't meant to end the way it did. You see, sometimes things go wrong within the narratives, which is part of the reason this organization exists. I won't try to explain the technicalities now, but there are certain rules that simply _cannot _be broken – things that are like natural laws governing the state of each system – and if they are violated, that world suffers damage. In the case of your home world, something had a big enough impact to shatter the internal structure of the world, causing the whole universe you knew to fall apart."

Noin tried to accept the explanation rationally, without applying it to the names and places she'd known all her life, but it was difficult to remain indifferent. Images of the blackness and destruction flashed through her mind, and she almost lost her careful restraint when she realized that her favorite coffee shop no longer existed. She stared down at her white-knuckled fists, determined not to think about it. "What could have that great an impact, to destroy the world?"

Steed frowned. "That, I'm afraid, we don't know. We began to see some abnormalities in that world some time ago, but we'd not been able to determine what was causing them. The catastrophe set on suddenly, with very little warning, and we hadn't time to analyze the data thoroughly. We were in too much of a hurry to get everyone out."

Noin tried to swallow, her dry throat aching with the effort. "And the blackness that was closing in… can you explain that?"

Steed gazed at her appreciatively. "I'm amazed that you could sense that. The blackness you saw is what we call interphase space. It is the vacuum that exists outside of the created worlds – not unlike outer space, which surrounds individual planets."

Noin nodded; she'd spent enough time in space to understand the analogy. Now that she could consider it rationally, as a concept and not an experience, the void had _felt _a little like outer space. But it was darker, colder, terrifying instead of welcoming. She'd always loved space, as a gateway to other worlds, but there was nothing about the blackness that had given her a sense of freedom. Instead, it felt like… death. An ending.

"You must have sensed the vacuum encroaching on the space you were inhabiting," Steed continued. "Still, I'm astounded at your perceptiveness. By all rights, you shouldn't have been able to detect the void. Nor do I understand how you were able to find your companions. I have a number of questions…" Steed looked at her uncertainly, as if weighing her endurance. "But I suppose they can wait until you've rested a bit more." He stood and went to the desk, where Noin saw a panel of electronics, a monitor, and – incongruously – an old-fashioned rotary telephone. He pressed a button on the console and spoke briefly, then turned back to her.

"I'll introduce you to our new secretary," he said. "She can get you anything you need. And I can personally attest," he said with a wink, "that she makes an excellent cup of tea."

The door behind him whisked open, and a petite blonde woman entered, carrying a clipboard. Steed gestured for her to step forward. "Miss Earhart, this is Miss Noin," he said. "She'll be with us for a little while, so I'd like you to look after her."

The secretary smiled a greeting. "Nice to meet you. Please, call me Wendy."

Noin nodded in return. "Lucrezia Noin," she replied automatically, hearing the weary rasp in her own voice. As anxious as she was for answers, she knew she needed to rest.

Steed turned back to face her. "Miss Noin, we'll talk again after you've had a chance to recover a bit. I'll put an agent to work on finding your companions. Please make yourself comfortable here; we'll try to arrange private quarters for you as soon as possible. For now," he said, "I leave you in Wendy's capable hands." He executed a cordial half-bow at the door, and made his exit.

The secretary smiled nervously, scrutinizing Noin from a distance. "I'll bring you a change of clothes, so you'll be, um, more comfortable. I'm sure you must be exhausted, after everything you've been through. Can I get you something? Is there anything you want?"

Noin looked down at her disheveled clothing, the sleeves still marked with Zechs' blood. _I want my partner,_ she screamed silently. _I want my life back. I want to go home._ But all she said was, "Could I have a glass of water, please?"

By the time Wendy returned with it, Noin had cried herself back to sleep.

- - -

Noin didn't raise her head as the door opened. The lounge had been busy all morning, and she was tired of watching the disorienting flood of new faces creep by, staring. She was slumped over the table, head buried in her arms, wrapped in a blanket like a refugee in a military camp.

Though after days of Steed's endless questioning, she was beginning to feel more like a prisoner of war than a refugee.

They had talked about many things during their long discussions – the structure of the various worlds in which the organization worked; the cycling of unique personalities or "characters" into different scenarios; the theory and purpose behind the SPCFC's retrievals. Steed had carefully explained how the organization functioned, assuring her of their honorable intentions. Yet despite his magnanimous elucidation to assuage her fears, the Director had seemed the most interested in her ability to feel the void and to sense the location of her comrades. He had pressed her again and again for information, but Noin hadn't been able to explain the strange power any more than Steed had. She had felt nothing beyond her own five senses since she had been pulled her out of her home world a few days before.

Steed had promised to assist her in finding her companions, but Noin couldn't help but feel that he was stalling. His questions, veiled in a pleasant conversational tone, seemed designed to feel out her opinions on various topics. She didn't know what he had in mind for her, but she had realized from the expressions on passing faces and whispered comments that this kind of attention was far from routine. She had the impression that there were rumors about her flying throughout the SPCFC headquarters, but she had no idea why she was being kept here. There was no reason why she would be considered valuable as a source of information; her only experiences were limited to a world that no longer existed.

Noin's reflections were interrupted by a light rap on the table, and she lifted her head to see Steed smiling pleasantly – a greeting she felt too emotionally drained to return. She pushed her hair away from her face and sat up, eyeing the packet of papers he held.

"Good news for you," Steed said amiably. "We've found your friend."

At this, Noin straightened, the blanket falling back from her shoulders. "Where is he?" she demanded. "Is he here now, or has he already been placed?"

Steed looked mildly perplexed. "I'm afraid we haven't located your partner yet," he said apologetically. "But we did find the young lady who was with you in your home world."

Noin felt a pang of guilt as she slid back down in her seat. In her brother's absence, Relena was still Noin's charge, yet Noin had nearly forgotten about the girl in her eagerness to find Zechs. Relena's safety ought to be paramount. After all, Noin told herself, she couldn't face Zechs without at least being able to tell him where his sister was. Even so, she wished that her partner had been the one Steed had located, instead…

Noin shook the traitorous thoughts out of her head. Steed was eyeing her curiously from across the table, and Noin turned her gaze to the folder in his hand. She had learned enough about SPCFC operations to identify the color-coded placement histories. "Has Relena already been placed in a new world, then?"

Steed nodded and flipped the file open. It was thicker than Noin had expected; apparently Relena had been through several previous incarnations. He extracted a sheaf of papers, clipped together at the top, and hesitated before setting it on the table.

"This isn't normally permitted," he said, looking levelly at Noin. "Ordinarily, operatives… rather, no one is allowed to look up information or track persons connected with their home world. But I consider this a special case, and as you won't be making direct contact, I'm making an exception."

Noin arched an eyebrow – why was she a "special case"? – but took the papers from him before he could think better of his decision. She perused the file eagerly, fascinated by the details of Relena's new life. Most of the pages were simply lines of heavy text, but there was a photograph clipped to the top of the stack. The face in the picture certainly resembled Relena, although she seemed a bit more mature. The young woman's hair was pinned in an elaborate pile at the top of her head, and she wore a cameo at her throat. The clothing seemed old-fashioned in a way, but the style was different from anything Noin had seen before.

"You needn't worry for her happiness," Steed commented as he made himself a cup of tea at the lounge's kitchenette. "Period romances always turn out for the best." He sat across the table and gestured for her to return the documents. She handed them back, feeling an odd twinge in her throat. If Relena had been placed in a new world, her memory had already been erased. She would have no knowledge of her brother, of Noin, of the Gundam pilots. Noin would likely never see Relena again, in any form. How was she going to explain that to Zechs?

Would she ever see Zechs again?

Noin watched anxiously as Steed stirred his tea deliberately and organized the files he'd brought. He worked without speaking, and Noin missed the idle chatter with which he usually filled gaps in conversation. The silence gathered, preparing to spring something new and overwhelming on her. Noin twisted her fingers into the blanket and waited.

After several minutes of silence, Steed looked up at her. His face was serious, lacking the easy humor he'd shown before. "Miss Noin," he said, "I have told you a great deal about our organization. As I'm sure you realized, I was not simply making conversation. I wanted you to know as much as you needed to about the SPCFC, so you could make an informed decision.

"The truth is, we're sadly understaffed, and our operatives are overworked. You saw the consequences of that in your own world – the handling of which, in accounting terms, was a fiasco. I have been instructed by the higher authority to recruit new personnel for our staff, and frankly, when I saw your background, I was determined to enlist your aid."

Noin stared at him in mild shock. "You're saying you want me to work here? As an operative?"

Steed smiled, a hint of the joviality returning to his face. "Not exactly. You'd be an excellent operative, to be sure, but I think your real talent would be wasted if all you did was retrieve misplaced characters. We had something a little more grand in mind for you."

Noin raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Such as?"

Steed leaned back in his seat, a little more relaxed now that he'd broached the topic. "As you know, I am the Director of the SPCFC," he said. "That title is an umbrella that covers a number of practical responsibilities. I choose which worlds need our interference; I plan our operations; I participate in retrievals when we're behind schedule. In short, I am solely responsible for everything we do here. The job is wearying, at best – and potentially disastrous, should anything happen to me. The higher authority has suggested dividing the responsibility of the Directorship. We have brought in Wendy as a kind of field support; her job will be to assist the Director, monitor at-risk worlds, and generally fill in where she's needed. Still, the need for our influence is growing, and there's already too much work for one person to handle alone. We need another Director, like myself, to share the burden.

"You, Miss Noin, will be the second Director. Provided, of course, that you accept the offer."

Noin chewed her lower lip as thoughts raced through her mind, competing for attention. She rebelled at the idea of being forced into a position of responsibility in an organization that, a few days ago, she hadn't known existed. The Directorship sounded intense, difficult – not the kind of life she'd envisioned for retirement, though stress and hardships were nothing new to her.

But what was the alternative? She could let Steed's librarians choose a new identity for her; her memory would be erased, and she would become another person in another world. Everything she'd worked for up to this point, every major decision, every tiny discovery she'd made, would be meaningless. She would lose everything she'd ever known.

On the other hand, if she became a Director, she might have a chance of rectifying the mistakes made during the emptying of her home world. She would have access to resources that might help her find her missing friends and associates. She could have a chance at reuniting them in another world, perhaps even recreating some semblance of the life they'd had before. If she accepted the offer, she would be committing herself to the organization, and possibly giving up the opportunity for a normal future for herself… but she might have a chance, however slim, of keeping her promise.

She glanced across the table at Steed, and realized that he was holding his breath, waiting for her answer. She toyed with the idea of making him wait longer – retribution for her nervousness earlier – but decided that antagonizing her senior officer wasn't a good way to start a new career.

"'Director' is a little less grandiose than some of my previous titles," she said finally, "but I suppose it'll do. Will I get a little gold nameplate for my desk? I've always wanted one of those, with my name and rank engraved on it…"

Steed sagged with visible relief, and Noin felt a little guilty for making him hold his breath that long. "My dear," he said, flashing his familiar smile, "I'll engrave it for you myself. Shall we get started?"

- - -

"Welcome to Wardrobe!" A tall, lanky man with taffy-colored hair flounced out to greet Steed and Noin as they entered the costume department. He was dressed in close-fitting satin breeches and white stockings. There was frothy lace at his neck and wrists, and he wore a vest and waistcoat rich with embroidery. In one hand he held a butterfly net; in the other, a bunch of ostrich feathers. His whole person seemed to _shimmer_, and the luminous presence filled the room. Noin blinked several times.

Steed tipped his hat to the Wardrobe keeper. "Afternoon, Elton, always a pleasure." He turned to introduce Noin, but Elton was already fretting over Steed's clothing.

"Zounds, sir! Still that frightful old bowler." Elton clucked disapprovingly and turned to Noin with a mournful expression. "I ask you! I've tried time and again to improve him, but he flatly refuses to cooperate. And what must they think, to see our Director dressed so? Demme, sir, you're a reflection of all of us, and I really must protest." Steed attempted to protest, but Elton didn't pause to hear his comments. The frilly haberdasher pushed the butterfly net into Noin's hands.

"Here, I'll show you," he said. He swiped the round hat off of Steed's head and dropped it onto the counter, where it landed with a distinct metallic _clunk_. Elton swept the cluster of feathers toward Steed's face, and for the first time Noin realized there was a hat attached to the mass of feather and ribbon. Elton wrestled the hat onto Steed's head and stepped back to survey his handiwork.

Noin had to bite her lip to keep from snorting out loud at the sight of Steed, in his tasteful and expensive custom suit, with three garish feet of plumes on his head. Steed was glaring viciously at Elton, who looked decidedly smug. Apparently, this was an ongoing battle.

Steed forcibly removed the offending monstrosity and tossed it carelessly into a corner, much to Elton's dismay. He retrieved his bowler, which he clutched behind his back, lest Elton abscond with it. "Elton," he said, his scowling face belying his pleasant voice. "I've brought someone to meet you, though I'd hoped you'd show a little more decorum. This is Miss Lucrezia Noin. She'll be with us for some time, and I'm introducing her to all of the department heads."

Noin nodded cordially. "Pleased to meet you. I look forward to working with everyone."

Elton's face brightened. "Oh, you're the one who's going to be our new Director! Or so I've heard. Unofficially, of course." He gave an exaggerated wink, and then looked her over, eyes raking from head to foot. He clucked again, shaking his head. "Oh, m'lady could do much better, to be sure," he said, and pulled an elaborate mess of striped silk from a rack behind him. "This, for example…"

Noin brandished the butterfly net like an epee. "Don't touch me," she warned. Elton met her eyes, swallowed, and nodded. The dress went back on the rack, and he stood quietly with his hands folded. Noin nodded approvingly; they'd reached an agreeable understanding.

Elton tagged along behind them, trying to make helpful comments, as Steed steered her through the Wardrobe department. There were vast racks of clothing, covering hundreds of styles, regions and eras. Steed had explained that they kept appropriate clothing available for all of the worlds they monitored, but Noin hadn't imagined how many varieties there could be.

"Where does all of this come from?" she asked as they walked past a closet full of familiar-looking jumpsuits. "Is there a staff that does nothing but make clothing?"

Elton shook his head. "Some of it is made here, but most of these come from within the worlds themselves. Back when we had more free time, we used to go on shopping trips, but there hasn't been time for that lately." He looked positively depressed. "There's always a fresh supply, though. Every time a character comes through, they leave their costume here and pick up something more appropriate to the world where they're headed." He gestured to a tray of clothing and accessories. "These just came through in the past week; I haven't had time to sort through and process them yet."

Noin skimmed the tray as she passed, and a small handbag caught her eye. It looked like the one she'd seen Relena pick up from her table, a few days before… She paused by the tray, and while Elton was busy pointing out one of his favorite acquisitions, she snatched the purse and thumbed through it.

The wallet still contained Relena's identification, along with a few bills of that world's currency. There was also a small photo sleeve with a few pictures. She started to open it, but Elton's voice next to her ear made her jump.

"Ah, you see how much work we have to do. Those new items are still full of all sorts of identifiable rubbish. Of course we remove all personal effects when we process the wardrobe items. Otherwise, it just gets messy, what with so many overlapping identities…"

Noin nodded, numb at the realization of how little value a unique identity held here. Relena had already moved on to another story, and the remnants of her personality were just an annoyance to the ones who worked to rehome more individuals like her.

She surreptitiously slipped the photo sleeve into her pocket when Elton turned his back, and placed the purse back on the tray with the rest of the items. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Steed looking very obviously in the other direction.

- - -

Noin leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up on the edge of her desk – a habit she'd long detested in her own superiors, but after the long, intense workdays she was learning to appreciate it. The heel of her shoe nudged the nameplate on her desk – gold, as Steed had promised, reading LUCREZIA NOIN, DIRECTOR. She smiled; it had seemed such a foreign title a few weeks ago, but after two months of the Directorship, she felt as if she'd been at the job for ages. She and Steed took turns Directing, a week at a time, to ease the workload. The responsibilities were draining, but she found the work challenging and engaging.

She had still never seen or heard from the enigmatic "higher authority" that Steed had mentioned. She'd managed to infer that the man in charge communicated with Steed via telephone on matters of great importance, but otherwise was not involved with the daily workings of the SPCFC. She didn't know how far the chain of command stretched above them. Noin secretly suspected that the rotary telephone she'd seen in Steed's office was a hotline to the higher levels, but she had no way of testing her theory.

Noin glanced at her watch. Another late night. She ought to be using this time to rest; it was still early in the week, and they were going to be busy. Still, she hated to waste time sleeping when she could be searching…

She dropped her feet to the floor and punched a button on the console. "Doujima," she called, "do you have any leads on that project I gave you?"

"Nothing definite yet, but there are a couple of holes you might want to look into," Doujima's sleepy voice drawled through the speaker. "Wait just a minute, and I'll transfer the files to your end."

"Thanks," Noin answered. "You're a real help." She kicked her terminal out of standby and drummed her fingers, waiting. After a moment she opened a drawer of her desk, glancing around instinctively to make sure no one was watching. She slipped a small envelope out of the drawer and opened it.

The photograph was small and worn at the edges from being carried in Relena's wallet, but Noin treasured it as a lifeline. The grainy picture was the only tangible link she had to her home and her past. Zechs gazed out passively from the snapshot, a bittersweet reminder of her purpose here. Noin cradled the picture in her hands as vivid memories of time spent with her partner flashed through her mind. She remembered their last moment together, and the image of his face burned away her fatigue.

__

_I promised I'd follow you anywhere, Zechs_. She placed the photograph back into the drawer and turned to her terminal, her resolve strengthened. _And I swear I'll find you again.  
  
_

To be continued  
in the ongoing adventures  
of the SPCFC.


End file.
